You
by oceanbang
Summary: Sometimes, two lives intertwine and lose their ability to exist as separate entities. An untouched girl, needing to be loved. A jaded Cajun, only following orders. Their story begins in the rain. ROMY.
1. Rains of Change

Disclaimer: I own nothing of X-men: Evolution.

**You**

by: oceanbang

Summary: Sometimes, two lives intertwine and lose their ability to exist as separate entities. An untouched girl, needing to be loved. A jaded Cajun, only following orders. Their story begins in the rain. Takes place AU, Season 2.

Chapter One: _Rains of Change_

(break)

_"You are the moon to my tides_

_Your air, in me it abides_

_Sea of desire pushing ashore_

_A taste I will forget nevermore"_

I've accepted this world as imperfect. To tell yourself otherwise is to live as a fool, and I'm no one's fool. Some people have it all, but even the prettiest roses are trampled now and again. You tell yourself to be strong, to survive. Sometimes that's all you can do – survive.

"Rogue?"

I turned to face Scott, brushing my bangs back. His brow furrowed into his shades. "Hmmm?"

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Ah'm fine. Just daydreaming."

He smiled. "About me?"

I forced a laugh that caught in my throat. It sounded like I needed the Heimlich. I cleared my throat, avoiding Scott's odd look. "You wish."

After slamming the locker shut a little louder than intended, I brushed past him, eyes to the floor. I could feel his shades prying into the back of my head, trying to figure out what was going on in there. It was my head and I still had trouble understanding things.

"Oh, hey, wait!" His hand grabbed my covered shoulder. I flinched out of habit. "Sorry. Um, Jean's staying after for this club meeting or something, and I told her I'd wait up, so–"

"Ah get it. No worries, Scott. Take the bus home. Ah'll tell the others."

He gave me an uneasy look. "Kurt's in detention. Evan's on his board and Kitty's making up a test."

"Oh." Take the bus home…alone. "Well, saves me the trouble of texting them all."

"It's my bad, Rogue," he said. "I forgot to tell you before. I promise I'll make it up to you."

Doubtful. "It's cool," I said, and turned away, blinking quickly to prevent any waterworks. The more time I spent around Scott, the softer I became. He reminded me of what I wanted so badly.

"Bye, Rogue."

"Yeah, see ya." I turned away. "Say hi to Jean for me."

J-E-A-N. Four little letters that could always put me in my place. If Scott represented what I craved and yearned for, Jean represented everything I wasn't – pretty, popular, polite, passionate. I often imagined her smooth skin being caressed by Scott's strong hands, her soft lips being embraced by his. The two weren't even together, weren't intimate. But I knew how Scott felt about her. How he _desired_ her. I've always wondered what it'd be like to be desired. To be the center of someone's affectionate thoughts. Jean was every guy's top prize, and I was pulling for consolation. Throw in the heavy makeup, heavier sarcasm, and outfits that covered almost every inch of my pale skin, and being a consolation prize suddenly seemed as equally unattainable as being the next Jean Grey.

"Damn, just my luck," I said, stepping through the front doors and seeing the last school bus from afar, as it exited the parking lot. I attempted to estimate the walking distance between the mansion and school. Glanced down at my oh-so-comfy black boots. "Public transportation it is."

(break)

The open bus door lingered behind me. I tried to count the number of people in the seats, in the aisle, but couldn't. I was three steps from being crammed between an overweight man and a young woman with a crying baby. The bus was nearly overflowing.

"Please move ahead, Miss," the driver said. I glanced at him, then at all the sweaty bodies and exposed flesh packed like sardines before me.

"Ah think Ah'll wait for the next one."

"Suit yourself," he said, and motioned me with his fingers to go away. The door almost closed on me, as I hopped onto the sidewalk. The engine roared and the claustrophobic's nightmare churned into traffic, disappearing in the sun's glare. I don't do well in crowds. Go figure.

As I started the journey home, boot to pavement, one step at a time, I thought of Scott. I thought of how I had trouble looking him eye-to-shades. He had a beautiful face, but it was a face I would never touch. Sometimes he'd give a little smile, and it would fool my heart into skipping a beat. But then Jean would walk by, and that smile would brighten. I was a distraction. I was there to remind him that not having Jean was better than not having anyone at all. I love being the standard by which everyone else can make themselves feel better by.

"And there goes the pity party," I told no one in particular.

My thoughts stayed on Scott Summers, while the urban became suburban, and soon rural. My daydreaming numbed the pain in my feet as well as the dryness in my throat. Gothic apparel never got along well with the outdoor elements, namely humidity. My sleeves were pushed up, but that was it. Even better, the sky was quickly becoming a mass of gray and black. At least the wind started to pick up and cool my face.

As I imagined Scott's strong, supple body, how it would feel against my slender one, the sound of a motorcycle shattered my reverie. Logan, possibly? The road to the mansion was up ahead. I kept to the grass, my eyes on the swaying trees. A man on a motorcycle blew past and disappeared around the bend.

I looked skyward as a few drops of rain splashed my cheeks like forgotten tears. A downpour would be inevitable. I considered taking off my clothes and making the rain my lover. Walking several miles in boots and stuffy clothes will make you think funny things.

The motorcycle reappeared from the bend, this time heading towards me. The rider cut across the road and braked, coming to a standstill on the side of the road a little ways ahead of me. I kept moving, fists clenched, ready to get down and dirty if I needed to. Honestly though, I was hoping he was just going to ask for directions. I was far too tired to enjoy fending off a prick.

"Need somethin'?" I asked, noticing the helmet-head was following my every move. I walked closer to the trees, keeping a wide berth between me and the rider. He dismounted and removed the helmet.

I forgot how to breathe.

The eyes – fireball pupils floating in what should have been white but was black as tar. The smile – curved up at one end, as if it was anticipating the punch line of a joke. Chiseled, scruffy cheeks and dark, chestnut-colored hair spilling across his forehead. The smile was inviting, but the eyes were otherworldly, mischievous. A beautiful monster.

"S'cuse me, pretty lady. I been travelin' some time now, trying t' find a certain Xavier Institute. Y' wouldn't happen t' know de place, would y'?"

Hot coals, being rubbed together – that's what his voice reminded me of. Deep and smoky, soaked in some tender accent I recognized but couldn't place yet…

I remembered to breathe. "Oh, uh, yeah – Ah mean, yes, yes Ah do. Ah live there. Walkin' that way, actually."

An eyebrow cocked, he tilted his head to the side, surveying me. "Tell me, _cherie_, why's y' travelin' by your lonesome?"

"Missed my ride. It's a nice day, anyways." Several more raindrops splattered my face. The rider glanced up at the stormy heavens, then back at me. This time he raised both eyebrows.

"I see. Well, it'd be the gentleman t'ing t' do t' offer y' a ride, _non_?" He asked, and then I placed it. _Cajun_ – spicy and flavored with a bit of French. I continued staring at his face, sculpted and flawless. Except the eyes, which burned into the pit of my stomach the more he stared at me. He was definitely a man who stared freely, as if any woman would complain about a man like him giving her attention.

The rain picked up, and I could feel my face melting. Nothing more attractive than twin rivers of mascara running down a girl's cheeks. I hung my head, seriously considering why I spent so much time each morning with makeup, as if I was heading to the circus instead of school.

"Sure, you're actually not far," I shouted, while the symphony of rain intensified. "Further down the road. Then take a right. It's a little obscured by the trees but it goes straight to the mansion."

"_Merci_. Ready for de ride of your life?" He outstretched a gloved hand. I watched it for a moment, half-expecting him to pull it back teasingly the moment I reached for it. Water seeped into my boots, and I was half-blinded by eye shadow. I grabbed his hand as fast as I could.

"Thanks."

And then we were on the bike, a helmet being stuffed onto my head. "Keep dat pretty face staying pretty," the rider said, and then he drew my arms around his torso. "Hold tight. Remy tends t' forget de laws of physics."

_Remy_. I whispered the name into his back and it tickled my lips. I tightened my grip around his body and saddled up as close as I could. Even though he was wearing a trench coat, I could still feel every contour of his body beneath it. A network of sinewy muscles rubbed against my forearms, as Remy shifted and engaged the bike. As he revved the engine, I caught a glance of my helmeted self in the rearview mirror.

What was I doing, exactly? Riding on the back of a motorcycle with a complete stranger, a devilish stranger who was both exotic and a little…unsettling. I was going to lead him straight to my home, to my friends, with no clue to his intentions.

The moment we jerked forward, I realized I was being very stupid. Charm could make a girl very, very dumb.

The woods whipped by, as did the freefalling rain. I buried myself into Remy's back, as he was my shield from the elements. He also exuded enough warmth to quell my gooseflesh skin. I closed my eyes, wanting to remember every sensation, every feeling of this moment. No matter where it was leading, it was perfect right now. I couldn't remember the last time I was this close to someone, sharing body heat. Especially someone so enthralling, so mysterious, so…

"Hey."

The whipping winds and rain threatened to steal my voice. "_Hey_."

The mansion road disappeared behind us. I jerked backwards, trying to lodge my fists into Remy's abdomen. He remained unflinching.

"You passed the road already," I screamed into the back of his head, but my helmet muffled me. "_Turn around_."

He jerked to the left, coasting along the bend in the road and almost sending me sideways. I cried out and reaffirmed my death grip on his torso. Panic shot from my belly to my throat, constricting it. At this speed, tuck-and-roll would still leave me bruised and bloody, if not unconscious. I could barely discern the trees around me. Because of the rain and the bike's velocity, the world bled like watercolors. My only option was to keep clinging to this man, wherever he was taking me. As stupid and scared as I felt right now, a small part of me burned with excitement. An hour ago I was wallowing in wishful thinking, aching for a boy scout who was too nice to tell me he wasn't interested. Now, I'm wrapped around a sexy stranger, on the verge of an unknown adventure.

Don't I deserve a little excitement?


	2. The Queen's Knight

Disclaimer: I own nothing of X-men: Evolution

**You**

by: oceanbang

Summary: Sometimes, two lives intertwine and lose their ability to exist as separate entities. An untouched girl, needing to be loved. A jaded Cajun, only following orders. Their story begins in the rain. Takes place AU, Season 2.

Chapter Two: _The __Queen's Knight_

_"The air I breathe is of you_

_Feelings touch a region new_

_My heart resounds like a drum ancient_

_What I need, I need to be patient"_

Trust is as fragile as glass. It must be handled very carefully. And if it breaks, it doesn't just break. It shatters into a million little pieces. And if you try to rebuild it too quickly, you'll surely hurt yourself on the jagged shards.

I didn't trust Remy. When we finally stopped at a gas station amid the wilderness on the side of the highway, I removed both the helmet and my gloves. But Remy was already off the bike and putting distance between us, as if he knew what I was planning. He wouldn't face me though. He stared into the wilderness, looking for answers to questions I did not know.

"Tell me, Rogue, y' like t' play chess?"

I opened my mouth to ask him how he knew my name. Not that it mattered. This was obviously all planned. We were alone in the parking lot. We had left behind the rain miles ago. Our only company now was the trees.

"Not really. Why?" I slid off the bike, failing to mask the crunch of gravel beneath my boots. I took a few steps towards Remy, moving at a gingerly pace.

"Y' ever t'ink 'bout how each pawn has a story? Everybody knows the king is important and the queen is powerful. But the pawns, no one wonders 'bout them. They just do what they told, dying on the front lines in the name of strategy."

Getting closer. "Sure, that makes sense. Pawns are expendable, Ah guess. That's why there are so many of 'em. They ain't so important." I tensed my legs, preparing to lunge. It was time for some answers.

"Everyt'ing must serve a purpose, _non_? Some people choose t' be pawns. Can't t'ink for themselves. But, you, Rogue –"

I never stood a chance.

He spun and caught my wrists, cat-like. Our faces drew close. I couldn't speak with those eerie eyes piercing my soul from mere inches away. His musky scent filled my nostrils. As if liquefied, the muscles in my legs gave out until I was being held like a puppet. "You're the queen, Rogue. Y' just don't know it yet."

With a dark chuckle, he shoved me backwards, and my weak legs gave out. I fell back into the gravel, abrading the soft, untouched skin of my hands. "And I'm the knight, bein' treated as a pawn. Biding my time, s'all."

I stared up at him, rubbing my hands. "Take your metaphorical nonsense and shove it. Ah'm done with this game."

I eyed my backpack, which I'd left on the bike seat. Remy outstretched his arms. "Make your move, queen."

Damn boots slowed me down, but I still made it to the backpack before Remy was on top of me. I clung to it as he tackled me to the ground, his hard body digging into my soft flesh. I struggled with the zipper, until the entire bag caught on fire. It lit up like a firework but emitted no heat. Panicked, I let go, and Remy flung it into the air. I watched as my books, makeup, and – most importantly – cell phone exploded in a brilliant flare.

I took that opportunity to do what any girl would do when faced with an oppressive man – I rammed my foot into his crotch.

Direct hit. The air exploded from his lungs and his muscles constricted. A vein bulged in his neck, as he collapsed into the gravel, panting. I swiped at his face with my bare hand, but he rolled to the side and kicked my feet out from under me. On hands and knees, I closed the space between me and the bike. With his throbbing dick, Remy was having trouble pursuing.

I climbed onto the bike, almost too frazzled to work the ignition. Somehow, I managed to start it, but Remy grabbed my leg. Channeling all the self-defense classes Logan had taught me, I nailed Remy in the face with my elbow. He crumpled to the ground.

"Checkmate, asshole."

The bike shot forward suddenly, and I almost crashed into one of the gas pumps. After narrowly avoiding it, I pulled on the helmet and arced the bike across the highway, heading in the direction we'd come from.

Remy had something in his hand, but I quickly refocused on the road. Three seconds later, the side of the helmet imploded with a metallic screech, and I toppled off the bike, never feeling the impact of the asphalt on my body.

(break)

Dreams are intangible but extremely reactive. A mere thought or memory alters the entire landscape. Logic in a dream is poisonous, as the randomness of dreams, the unknown links between the real and the imagined, is its lifeblood.

Even in unconsciousness, there is still some awareness. The mere realization that one is dreaming will sometimes render the dream incomplete. Other times, it heightens the experience.

As Remy's body enfolded upon mine, I knew I was dreaming. Not to mention the fact that his body, beautiful at first glance, had recently caused me harm.

He was speaking in French, tasting the words as he did. It might've been gibberish, but I perceived it as French just as I perceived its meaning, even though I didn't know a lick of the language. He was whispering dirty things, a Cheshire Cat smile on his lips. Then, those lips buried into my neck, moving beneath my jaw, near my throat.

I pushed his trench coat off his broad shoulders. Somehow it fell away, even though his arms were still drawn around me. I found a zipper on his shirt and drew it down from his collar bone to his navel. My hands explored his tanned skin and rippling muscles. His trimmed chest hair tickled my fingertips. His heart beat against my bare palm.

His lips drew across my bare shoulder, and I wondered where my blouse had gone. I placed both my hands on his rough cheeks and angled his face towards mine. I closed my eyes and leaned in, ready to press my lips to a man's for the first time in my life…

"Is this really necessary?"

Blackness. And pain. Heavy, heavy pain. "If she proves to be a good listener and a willing guest, then her accommodations will be improved. Her comfort should not lie within your realm of concern, Mr. LeBeau."

"I suppose. S'cuse me for questioning you."

Each heartbeat found its way into the back of my skull. _Thud. Thud. Thud._

"That will be all for now. We will continue when she has regained consciousness."

From somewhere far off, a door closed. Not a small door, either, but one that sounded thick and reinforced.

Sometime later, the pain subsided. But the blackness remained.

(break)

After a second slumber, this time dreamless and cold, I awoke to a tiny orange light above me. I tried to roll away from it, but my muscles refused to move. I groaned, cheek pressed to cold cement. I managed to turn my head, but my skin stuck to the floor for a second. Something wet and sticky on my cheek…

The smell of smoke. The light was an ember, attached to a cigarette. I closed my eyes and tried to curl into the fetal position. My throat was too raw for words to form. My head was a lead weight, unable to be lifted by my slender neck.

The light reappeared in the darkness when I opened my eyes. It drew close to my face, and I could barely make out Remy's nose and jaw. He took a drag from the cigarette and politely blew the smoke away from my face. Then he leaned in closer, tobacco breath filling my nostrils.

"Y' had Remy scared, _chérie_. My pride an' joy took a nasty hit from y' foot. Surprised me. But everyt'ing is still in one piece. Wanna feel?"

He picked up my hand, which had been covered again with my gloves. My stomach clenched in revulsion. Thankfully, instead of sticking my hand down his pants, he kissed it. "Y' don't take no shit. Remy likes that in a woman."

And then he was gone, leaving me adrift in the sea of darkness. With nothing else to do, my thoughts soon came back to the dream. The kisses exploring my neck. His toned chest with the pounding heartbeats. The impossibility of skin against skin. I thought about his skin the most. Tanned, taut with muscle, and just a bit of hair to prickle my fingers. Skin that was most sensual. Skin I could never touch.

Despite everything, I smiled – and hated myself for it.


End file.
